


TV Confession

by Manadrite



Series: RK1000 Week [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Confession, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Day 2, First Kiss, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, RK1K Week, Shooting, TV Confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manadrite/pseuds/Manadrite
Summary: “How can I talk about androids being alive, when the one in front of me, protecting me, still acts like a machine?”





	TV Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2! Super late! As usual!  
> Connor is Markus’ bodyguard who takes his job very seriously and needs to understand that sometimes he needs to relax, while Markus is in love with him but says dumb things™️

Markus had always been one to rely on emotion rather than logic, if he wasn’t, then he would’ve given in long ago.

 

Perhaps that sounded spineless, a cowardly thing to think. 

 

However, when you consider the statistics, the improbabilities, the overwhelming facts that threaten to consume you.

 

He couldn’t have led the revolution in the first place.

 

Logic would’ve told him that no one would truly ever care, the bullet in his chest sealed his fate and he would never escape it.

 

Logic would’ve told him that humans could never understand, they were machines, and when machines didn’t do as told, they were destroyed.

 

Logic would’ve told him that peaceful protest would lead to a massacre, a cold shower of blue staining skin as their people died following his name.

 

No, Markus was not logical, but he supposes being emotional was just as damning.

 

Nightmares of the junkyard, refusing to share the burden in fear, the all consuming fear that this was all in vain.

 

_ “You’re a damned fool, Markus,”  _ North told him as he stared at the stars with pain in his nonexistent heart, but the truth was, she was too.

 

While he was constant, and swirling in his emotions, she stewed and and let them fester until something happened that made her explode.

 

Being truthful, Josh was the most logical among those of Jericho, but even he let fear consume him and muddle his thoughts.

 

Markus was driven by emotion, and sometimes he couldn’t control himself, he couldn’t control the outbursts and the worries, the fears, the stupid things said in the heat of the moment that never come out just right.

 

“Connor, you can’t just see everything as a threat,” The familiar burning in his chest that spread throughout his body like a raging fire that courses like lava in his veins.

 

Connor, blinking at him with his wide, brown eyes that were specifically made to lure others in, an urging warmth that made you want to confess everything.

 

Everything.

 

“Markus,” His voice was irritatingly smooth for the frustration curling in the heterochromatic man, “You may not like it, but this is my job.”

 

“No, Connor, it’s not just a  _ job,  _ you’re  _ living  _ like this!” Markus cried slamming his hand on the wall, once again his calm facade was gone, gone like a fiery wave.

 

The brunet watches him, composed as ever, so pristine it drove him mad.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re upset,” Connor spoke quietly, looking up past the two inch difference Markus had on him.

 

“You don’t  _ talk  _ to anyone, you’re  _ always  _ on edge, Connor, you  **_flinched_ ** when a child spoke to you! No, that isn’t living!”

 

Connor straightened his shoulders, as if beating away any weakness he had, “I was startled, either way you need to be preparing to give your speech, you need to be out there in a few minutes.”

 

“How can I talk about androids being alive, when the one in front of me, protecting me, still acts like a machine?”

 

The moment the words left his mouth, the cold wave of regret washed over the burning anger, guilt stopping him in tangent at the look of undeniable hurt that flashed across Connor’s face for a split second.

 

It was a low blow, Markus knew more than anyone that Connor struggled, struggled emotion, despised himself for it.

 

“No,” He sighed, “No I didn’t mean that.”

 

Connor shook his head, walking past him to open the door where the platform awaited, the chatter of awaiting people filling the air.

 

“You’re right,” He says after a moment, soft and delicate, “You don’t need someone like me, after this, I’ll go.”

 

“Connor, I didn’t-“ And just like that he was gone, into the dark shadows of the corner, watching every single face for the smallest misstep.

 

Markus stared after him, feeling as exposed as an opened wound.

 

He had let his emotions rule him once again.

 

_ “You’re a damned fool, Markus.” _

 

* * *

 

The wood of the floor felt as if it cracked his skull, the splatter of blue across his chest numbing as the ringing in his ears.

 

There was muffled screaming, and yet he could still see flashing lights, taking pictures of chaos, as if it was beautiful.

 

Maybe it was.

 

Markus sat up slowly, feeling sick at the Thirium that splattered across his chest, wishing it was his own instead of the brunet clutching the mangled remains of his shoulder and left arm.

 

Despite injured, he moved like a hunter, jumping off the platform into the crowd, gritting his teeth as he approached the shooter who fired again, hitting his leg.

 

Connor stumbled but continued, unperturbed by his grevious wounds.

 

The shooter fired one last time before his gun was promptly wrestled away, taken apart with ease that only added to his dangerous grace.

 

Markus came to his feet, shaking and still disturbed by his ears that were too similar to that of the junkyard, but his eyes only on Connor.

 

The shooter was taken down by the android, despite being at a disadvantage of being one arm and leg down.

 

Police who were on standby coming quickly to cuff them and drag them kicking and screaming curses away.

 

The heterochromatic man snapped out of his daze, jumping down and shoving through the crowd to the man who took a bullet from him, fear biting at his heels, desperation in his breath.

 

Connor’s soft brown eyes met his, endless in their dark pools, speckled with lights it had taken him months to catalogue each and every different shade.

 

The ringing eased, allowing him to hear Connor over the slowly calming crowd that was still too hysterical.

 

“Are you hurt?”

 

He supposes that’s what broke him.

 

The man with three bullets in him, one in his shoulder, his leg, and his side, drenched with his own Thirium with stress levels too high, asking if Markus, unscathed, was hurt.

 

Markus was never good at restraining himself.

 

He couldn’t speak, throat too tight, eyes burning, the experience too raw.

 

He closed the distance and wrapped Connor in his arms, one hand going to cup the back of his head, as if to find nonexistent bullet wounds, tears finally leaking from his eyes.

 

“Markus?” He was stiff in his arms, unused to being touched by almost anyone, though it could be the lasting discomfort about being around Markus, stupid, emotional, Markus.

 

“I’m so sorry,” His voice cracked, arms tightening, “I’m so sorry.”

 

“You did not ask to be shot at,” Connor sounded disquieted, his head moving in his grip, looking for harm that had never befallen him.

 

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean what I said, you could’ve, you could’ve died thinking that I did, but I didn’t,” Markus felt his heart hammering with every drop of Thirium on his skin, “Everything about you, every little tic, every awkward, every unnatural, every insecure, every cute thing about you, I love it. I love  _ you. _ ”

 

Connor stilled in his arms, silent and frozen, Markus continued, holding him as if this would be the last time.

 

“I need you, I need you. I don’t care if you have trouble sometimes, if you need help feeling safe, if you just want someone, I want to be that for you. So  _ please _ , please don’t leave.”

 

Finally, the brunet relaxed in his hold, slumping and letting Markus hold his burdens, quietly letting out a fragile, “Okay.”

 

Later in the hospital, Connor will glare at him and point to the small T.V that broadcasts the live footage of Markus’ true love confession, and Markus will smile sheepishly, and ask to kiss him.

 

He’ll taste like Thirium and the cinnamon, vanilla candies he can’t resist, his lips will be soft and firm, his hold, weak from strain but always strong, on the back of his head.

 

Markus will think deliriously if this is what happiness will taste like.

 

But for now, this was okay.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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